He Remembers
by Mindy35
Summary: KIBBS. Post-"Twilight". Gibbs POV. He remembers her perfectly.


Title: He Remembers.

Author: Mindy.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me; if they did this would never have happened to Kate.

Spoilers: Major for "Twilight".

A/N: This is brief because I couldn't stand to go in depth and really torture Gibbs. I think we all get how he must feel. I hope this makes anyone out there mourning Kate feel a bit better, it made me feel better just writing it (slightly).

* * *

_"If I live till I was a hundred and two...just dont think I'll ever get over you..._

He remembers her watching him pack up Agent Potchi's desk and asking:

"Why are you going through everything before you box it?"

He can hear her exact tone. And her voice, so recently heard, so recently accessible to him, so recently at his beck and call, already comes with an eerie echo. Sooner or later it will disappear altogether. He hadn't looked at her when he'd answered that it was habit, didn't want the family to get any surprises. She'd sighed and continued watching him, but he'd been too wrapped up in his own guilt and anger to worry about what she'd been feeling that night.

He'd met Kate's family at the hospital. The mother she looked like, the sister she sounded like, the brothers that held in tears for a sister they quite obviously adored. Just as he had, holding in his own tears.

Gibbs sat at her desk and switched on the lamp. He wanted to get this done as soon as possible – as much as he may wish to put it off. He didn't want Tony or McGee to have to see him packing up Kate's desk, he wanted to spare them. But more than that; he wanted to do it alone; be alone with the last tangible scraps of her existence. Apart from the cold, pale body that lay in Ducky's freezer, a bullet in her brain.

He sighed, heavily and opened the first drawer on his left. Inside was a neat tray of stationary; pens, pencils, scissors, stapler etc. Also thrown in, seemingly at random, was a tube of lipstick, a muesli bar, a row of headache tablets, and a small tub of moisturizer. He picked up the last one and squinted at the label on the tub….jasmine, something. Is that why she always smelt so good?

Towards the back of the drawer was a filofax, slightly frayed around the edges, with scraps of paper, receipts and so forth stuffed in it. He picked that up and it fell open to a diary from two years before. Kate's writing detailed appointments, reminders,names and phone numbers,and as he flicked through, he came to a photo.

He remembers the photo being taken. He remembers the night it was taken. He remembers perfectly.

He handles the photo carefully and wonders how she got it. He wonders if she treasured it. He wonders how often she looked at it.

She was exactly the way he remembered her from Air Force One – somehow he wondered if in a short time, he'd made too much of her in his own mind. He couldn't wait to get started on his new discovery; work was gonna be fun again with Caitlin Todd there.

She'd arrived, looking immaculate and professional. She still looked Secret Service but he would change that in no time. He'd already prepared for that.

He remembers the look of surprise and delight on her face when he'd presented her with the boots he'd gotten for her the day before in anticipation of her joining their team. He might as well have given her a diamond ring for the way she looked at him; the way she'd _always_ looked at him…..the way he'd always tried to ignore.

"How'd you know my size?" she'd teased, and he'd ordered her to put them on as he'd fitted the cap on her head, making her look about twelve years old. God, had he loved her even then?

He'd led her to the car, filling her in on the case, as he watched her roll up her hair and stuff it into the cap, then dispense with her heels and tie up the combat boots. She'd looked silly, but she had not cared, she'd worn them because he gave them to her and he said she'd need them.

The photo was taken by Tony as they'd been walking back, side by side; their frames were harsh and bright against the dark night. It was not a flattering photo – of either of them. He knew Kate hadn't cared – it was what the photo represented. A beginning. A partnership, of sorts. A connection.

He sat back in her chair, staring at the lost moment in time and for the first time it occurred to him, that if he hadn't brought Kate Todd to NCIS, she would still be alive.

How was it possible for someone to just disappear of the face of the earth within a day? Within a moment? It was too harsh, too unfair, too….unbelievable.

Looking at her image, he could almost see her walk, hear her talk, catch her smile. That smile that could light up a room; it was disarming, that smile, a weapon she didn't know she possessed. She never knew how it affected him. She never knew a lot of things he now ached to tell her.

He wished he were a man who could cry. He wished he remembered how – it would provide some relief, some release for the horrible and inescapable feelings of loss, pain, blame and remorse.

He just wanted her back with _all his being_ and would gladly exchange his life for hers.

For the rest of his life, if he lived to be a hundred and two, Jethro Gibbs would regret Katie Todd.

For the rest of his life, she would hold a special place in his heart, in his soul, that would never, ever feel at peace.

For the rest of his life, all he would have of the woman he loved most was one photo taken on a dark and ominous night.

He tucked it into his breast pocket, right over his heart and continued on with his task. Her family could have everything else, but this little piece of Kate was his. He remembers and he can never forget.


End file.
